By Another Name
by The Owl's Pen
Summary: Edmund never knew his name could determine his destiny. Worse, he wasn't sure he could live up to it. Edmund/Peter brotherfic
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's Notes_**

**Hello Everyone! *waves excitedly* This my first posted FanFic ever and I am so wound up about it! Whoop-ee!**

**Disclaimers: **CS Lewis owns Narnia, not I. Shakespeare owns Romeo and Juliet and the quotes from that work contained herein. The (1) and the (2) you see in quotation marks signify a direct quote from the Bard. Please correct me if I have improperly quoted or formatted these items.

**Story Rated: _T _**for a reference to the death of a Calormene soldier (I'd never kill off one of the Pevensies, don't worry!) in one of the chapters, plus some angstiness.

**Please read an review, and please _never _be afraid to offer constructive criticism! It's the best way to grow as a writer and reader. I've been in many Creative Writing classes, so trust me, I can take it *smiles***

**Here we go... Enjoy!**

**By Another Name**

Edmund sat staring out the window, thinking to himself that schooling had been infinitely more interesting in Narnia. There, with Tumnus the Faun as a tutor in subjects like _The Campaigns of King Frank _and riding lessons from Philip the Talking Horse, learning had been fascinating. Here, in England, in a classroom full of twenty-five identically dressed lads all his own (English) age, King Edmund the Just found school to be, well…

_Boring._

He sighed and shifted in his seat, deigning to bring his attention back to his Literature Professor. It wasn't that it was difficult to keep up with his classes. On the contrary. With the mind of a twenty-six-year-old in his fourteen-year-old body, Edmund could read, write, cipher, memorize, and recite _far _better than any of his mates. School was a cakewalk. His brother and sisters had reported similar results in their academics after their first return from Narnia, and the four Pevensies' grades had shot up like a red-and-golden arrow. Their mother nearly fainted when the four came back from first term with perfect marks.

Peter had pulled them aside first chance he got. "Mum's going to know something's up," he fussed. "We can't do that again, all come back with perfect marks and that rot. We've got to be smart about this and play dumb."

Edmund whooped with laughter. "By the Lion, Peter!"

_"Hush!" _Peter shook his head at the closed bedroom door. "You know what I meant. And don't use expressions like that around people, or Mum will _really _begin to wonder about us."

"But what can we do?" Lucy asked. "How can we get perfect marks one term and then come home _not _perfect the next?"

"Especially when school _is_ so boring,"Susan chimed in. "Getting perfect marks is about the only fun thing about 'learning' any more."

"I know." Peter rubbed his hands across his face and sighed. "Look, just do what you can. Make little mistakes. Don't dot all your i's and cross all your t's _every _time. Professors take off for things like that."

Susan gave him a severe look. "Really Peter! Don't you _want _to go to the University some day? We can't afford to get into bad habits any more than we can afford for people to figure out we're… well, _different."_

"Maybe we should each just pick _one _subject to flub," Edmund suggested. "You know, something we were never good at before Narnia, so it'll seem natural. Maybe Mum will think this term was just a fluke. That the back-to-school good behavior just took a little longer to wear off than usual. Don't fail or anything, just don't be so perfect."

Lucy nodded. "But do it _gradually, _so it won't look so funny."

"Or we can just say that classes got harder as the term went along," said Susan. "Although that was really never true for me…"

Edmund snorted. "Perhaps you should stick with your perfect marks, Su. You were always close to leading your class any way."

So it had been agreed. Susan made every grade count. Peter dropped little inconsistencies into his History assignments, sometimes inserting the least un-earthly sounding Narnian names and locations and dates in place of the "real" English ones. Lucy pretended to struggle with mathematics, although writing "seven times nine is ninety-seven" made her blush with embarrassment. For over two years they had each managed to "scrape by" in at least one subject. Edmund chose to throw Literature.

Hence, his boredom on this rainy day in class.

The professor cleared his throat, dragging Edmund's attention back to the front of the room.

The man began to recite. "'What's in a name… (1)'"

Edmund groaned. _By Aslan! Asking a class of twenty-five adolescent boys to study the balcony scene of _Romeo and Juliet _is like asking a herd of Minotaurs to strap on some ice skates and take a turn around the pond!_

"'That which we call a rose would by any other name smell as sweet.' (2)"

The professor clapped his book shut and surveyed the roomful of boys, most of whom reacted as Edmund had. The professor chuckled. "My my. Looks like Christmas in here Lads, what with all those red and green faces… Ha!" He set the book down carefully before smiling around at the class. "Not to worry. We won't be eavesdropping on Juliet's balcony just yet."

_Thank the Lion._

"This quotation of Shakespeare's, however, has always been a favorite of mine." He bounced on his toes a little. Smiled. Then delivered his verdict. "Because I consider it to be absolute _rot."_

Twenty-five adolescent boys gasped.

_Now _Edmund thought class was interesting.

The professor held up his hands for quiet. "Not because I think Shakespeare wasn't an intelligent writer, or that Juliet's declaration to Romeo was insincere, but because in my life I have met people with beautiful names such as Mercy, Justice, and Patience and found many of them to be mean, petty, ugly, and all-around unconscionable. Look that word up, by the way." He turned and scrawled a fluid _u-n-c-o-n-s-c-i-o-n-a-b-l-e _on the blackboard.

Edmund scribbled it down.

"So. What _is _in a name? Surely, when a parent names a child, they have an idea of the name's implications. _Your _parents named you with the idea that it would somehow suit you, or that you would suit _it. _How many of you know the meaning and origins of your names?"

Not one boy raised his hand.

The professor chuckled. "Thought not. Well, it's high time you found out, my Lads. Your assignment is to look up the meaning and origin of your name, and determine whether or not it is consistent with your character. Do the same for three other people with whom you are intimately acquainted. This assignment is to be at least one page in length and due at the beginning of session tomorrow."

And without another word he exited the classroom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes**

**Disclaimers: **CS Lewis owns The Chronicles of Narnia, not I. The American Heritage Dictionary owns the definition of "unconscionable," not I (I don't know whether I have to cover dictionary definitions or not, but I did quote directly, so...). The (3) in quotations indicates a direct quote from the American Heritage Dictionary. Please let me know if I have quoted or formatted anything incorrectly.

**Rated: _T_ **for a reference to the death of a Calormene soldier and an enemy in one of the chapters, reference to a past encounter with a bully, and general angstiness.

**Spoiler Alert: **If you have not yet seen or read _Prince Caspian _or _The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, **Major Spoilers Ahead!**_

**Now for the fun part!**

**Hello and thank you to the 2 of you who have already reviewed Chapter 1! I did not expect to get reviewers so soon. If you're reading this, I can assume you were intrigued enough to come back for more! ****I love the idea of names and their meanings, and I'm glad to see I'm not the only one. **

**As always, please review and offer whatever criticism you like.**

**Please enjoy! Chapter 3 is almost done!**

Edmund sat tapping his pencil against a library table, hurriedly doing a trigonometry equation in his head before scribbling down an answer. He didn't bother to check it twice. Like Lucy, mathematics had come easily for him since Narnia. Too easily. Sometimes he copied down his assignments and mailed them to her at the girls' school, so that she could have the pleasure of working equations without having to remember that she was supposed to be only twelve years old and not very good at math.

"How many other families have _that _kind of problem," he muttered.

Edmund scratched down the last answer and shoved his paper away. "So that's done," he sighed. He rubbed his fingers through his thick black curls. "Now for something of an actual _challenge…" _He hadn't the foggiest what his name meant, nor his brother and sisters', much less whether or not they lived up to them. It intrigued him. This was one assignment he couldn't honestly "forget" to do, as he sometimes found necessary. Getting up, he walked to the reference section, where a slim book about names and their historical significance had been swarmed over by a dozen or so boys over the past hour. Edmund had waited until the others were gone before taking his turn.

_Lucy first, _he decided. He flipped to the girls' section of the book, to the letter "L." His finger skimmed down the page. _Luana, Lucretia, Lucy… _Edmund stared in surprise. The definition was short. But apt.

_Lucy – Bringer of Light. Of Latin origin._

"By the Lion," Edmund whispered. Lucy. The one who had led him to Narnia, to the lamp post, to the truth, to Aslan himself. In his mind's eye he saw his sister's shining face when she spotted Aslan across the gorge and insisted that her brothers and sister follow Him. He saw the glow in her eyes when she told him of the albatross that had circled the mast of the _Dawn Treader_ and whispered in her heart before leading them away forever from the Island of Darkness.

Bringer of Light, indeed.

Edmund copied the definition down carefully, then thumbed through the book until he came to "S." He scanned the page.

_Susan – Graceful Lily. Of Hebrew origin._

He smiled. Susan. The flower of the family, the delicate one. Sought after by suitors, in Narnia _and _in England, he thought wryly. Beautiful, pure, fluent in motion and speech. Even when shooting an arrow into the side of an enemy, she never lost the dignified expression that showed she was doing all in Aslan's name. Graceful. Yes, it suited her. He wrote it down.

"And now, Pete," Edmund murmured. He flipped through the book, went too far, came back… ah, here it was!

_Peter – Rock. Of Latin origin._

Edmund laughed and thumped the page. "By Aslan!" His whoop drew the attention of several other boys, not to mention a scowling librarian. He ducked his head apologetically, then scribbled down the definition, chuckling. Just wait until he showed this to Peter, back in the room they shared in the dormitory! He could just _see _Pete's face going red as he, Edmund, explained that he was going to write a paper for class about his strong, noble, steadfast big brother. For Peter was all of that and more, more solid than the great carved stones that made up Castle Cair Paravel. The High King was the high ground of this family of four. Pete was the champion of his younger siblings, and it was high time, Edmund decided with a wicked grin, that he knew it. _That _would make the dignified High King Peter blush, now wouldn't it?

Lights began to go out, the five-minute-warning that the library was closing. Edmund gasped and looked at the clock. So late already! He sped to the "E" section of the book, past _Edbert, Eden, Edgar…_

_Edmund – Protector. Of Old English origin._

"Protector." Edmund blinked and shook his head. No, no, it must be a mistake. He looked again.

_Protector._

Edmund's mind reeled. _I, the traitor child? I, the one who turned my brother and sisters in for Turkish Delight? I, the one who sat on the White Witch's throne – if only for a moment – and craved it more than the love of my family? __**I, **__"Protector?" _He wanted to laugh, shake it off, dismiss it as a fluke. What did his professor know any way? It was just a crazy assignment, right? He would have scoffed had he not felt so horribly shaken.

The lights blinked on and off. One-minute-warning. Gasping, he scooped up his books and scurried for the door. Halfway there he came to a halt in front of a dictionary on a stand, remembering the professor's lecture. He flipped open the pages, fingers shaking as he skimmed down the page.

"_Unconscionable – not restrained by conscience; unscrupulous. (3)"_

Edmund stared for a long moment. Then he put his head down on the page.

"Oh, Aslan," he moaned. _"That _is the proper definition for me."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes**

**Disclaimer: **C.S. Lewis owns the Chronicles of Narnia, not I.

**Rated: _T _**for references to the death of a Calormene, past encounters with a bully, angstiness and some intense emotions (the list keeps getting longer...)

**Hi Everyone! So glad to be back in the land of being able to post stuff! What was that all about??? *grins* Thanks again so much for all of your reviews, especially to Sentimental Star and Lirenel for being so on top of it! Chapter 4 is almost ready to post.**

**For those of you who have me on alert (and believe me, I'm flattered beyond measure!), I also have the introduction of a second Narnia fic ready to post, YAY!!! **

**This has been my favorite chapter to write thus far... just tons of opportunity to play with the characters' emotions! Please read and review, and please offer any constructive criticism you wish!**

Edmund sat staring at the pages on the desk in front of him. Behind him, Peter sprawled across one of the beds, a textbook lying open beside him on the rich blue coverlet Lucy had knitted for him last fall. The High King gazed at his younger brother.

"Did you know," Peter offered, "That when you get all intent like that, sometimes you drool?"

Edmund's hand flew to his lower lip. It was dry.

Peter whooped with laughter, then ducked as his enraged younger brother chucked a book at him. Unable to maintain his balance, Peter tumbled off the bed. The coverlet went with him.

"_Hmph," _Edmund muttered.

Peter gave him a cheeky grin and sat up. "Seriously, Ed," he chuckled. "You're as somber as a Centaur with a head cold. What's wrong with you tonight?"

Edmund sighed, rubbing his hands in his hair. "Nothing. I should just forget it, I suppose."

Peter frowned and stood. "Forget what?" He picked up the book that had so recently been launched at his head, and set it on the table next to Edmund. "Ed, what's up?" A dozen reasons for his little brother's apparent unhappiness popped into his head. Such as the fact that, having recently been told he would no longer be able to get back into Narnia, Edmund was now a little more sensitive to the differences between himself and his mates. Concerned, Peter gripped his shoulder. "Did someone say something about you? Have you had a run-in over something? Do you need me to-" To his surprise, Edmund began laughing.

"By Aslan," the younger king chuckled. "It fits, Pete. It's _you."_

Peter automatically looked down at himself, at the striped cotton pajamas he wore and the blue blanket now thrown over one shoulder. _"What _fits? The _nightshirt?"_

Still giggling, Edmund selected one of the closely written sheets on the desk and handed it to Peter. "Here, High King. Read this and you will understand."

Puzzled, Peter began reading.

It appeared to be an assignment, which began with the sentence, "My older brother's name is Peter, from the Latin word _petrus _for 'rock.'"

Peter felt heat creep into his cheeks as he read on down the page, as Edmund described him as "the rock my sisters and I cling to, the high ground where we know we are safe from storm, a fortress without compare." The page went on in this vein for some time, with descriptions of some of Peter's more memorable sheltering of his siblings (and some that he had forgotten entirely). Those from England were told in vivid detail, those from Narnia carefully redressed to read like incidents that could have happened in this world.

This instance of a bully threatening a much smaller, much more delicate ten-year-old Edmund for having refused to repeat some nasty language, with Peter jumping in to take over the fight... That had actually been an exchange with a Calormene soldier who demanded a duel (most dishonorably, since Ed was at that time just recovering from an illness that had nearly taken his life) over Edmund's refusal to bow to the Calormene idols when transacting negotiations. Peter had managed to persuade the scoundrel to duel _him _instead, and although Edmund protested to the point that Peter had to make the girls sit on him, the Calormene accepted. After all, one dead Narnian king was just as good as another. But Peter's Rhindon did not fail him. It was the Calormene who wound up dead. Peter cleaned his sword carefully, then carried a very ill and shaken Edmund back home. In the paper, Ed re-wrote this, claiming that Peter had bested the bully, then taken Edmund home and tended to the younger brother's black eye himself.

"It is his ever-present tenderness to us," Edmund wrote, "That makes Peter as solid and enduring as a magnificent castle by the sea."

Peter dropped down on his bed. "Oh, _Ed!"_

Edmund was regarding him with folded arms and a pleased smirk.

The High King's face was burning. "Edmund, really," he gasped. "It's…"

"True?" Edmund suggested. "Every word of it, and the girls would absolutely agree? Yes, I thought so too."

"Really, Ed," Peter protested weakly. "You paint me with far too lavish a hand!"

"Hmm." Edmund considered this, his dark eyes locked on Peter's blue ones. "Then maybe you'd like to tell me what you think of my assessment of the girls." And he placed two more sheets of paper in his brother's hand.

Peter read, and read. Susan's graceful presence seemed to twine about the page, Lucy's blinding devotion to The Lion shone between the lines. He took both papers and hugged them to his chest, wishing by Aslan that they could both really be in his arms right now. The school terms were far too long.

Edmund watched with a little smile, not seeming to mind that the assignment was all crumpled up over Peter's heart. "It is Susan, is it not?" he asked softly.

Peter nodded.

"And Lucy?"

The High King pressed the description of his youngest sister to his lips.

Edmund stood, placing a hand on Peter's shoulder, saying still more gently, "And you, Peter." He caught at the edges of the blanket and began arranging it on Peter's shoulders, draping the free-hanging right corner over his brother's left shoulder. Then he turned Peter to face the mirror.

The older boy gasped. High King Peter, the Magnificent, stood looking back at him, a familiar blue velvet riding cloak flung about his upper body in the old Narnian fashion. King Edmund, the Just, smiled over his shoulder, dark eyes glowing in his fair face.

"Don't try to tell me that's not you. If you don't believe _me, _then the girls will tell you it is." Edmund gripped his shoulders. "Since I intend to make copies of this for all three of you, of course. I will write all as it truly happened in Narnia."

Peter found he could make no protest. He flung himself at his brother in an embrace. "I never knew you were such a one for sentiment, Ed," he murmured.

Edmund laughed and tightened his grip, then released his brother with an affectionate shove. "For a Centaur with a head cold, that is."

Peter shoved back, grinning. "Whatever did I do to deserve you, Edmund?" He immediately regretted it. He half-expected Edmund to pull all the stops out and recount _every _instance that Peter had been nice to him from birth onward. That would have been simply too much hero-worshiping for one night.

Instead, Edmund gave him the oddest look before taking the papers away and quietly tucking them into his school bag.

It occurred to Peter that just a few minutes ago, before all this "my-big-brother-is-the-greatest" talk, Edmund had been looking pretty upset. "Ed?"

"Hmm?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Edmund said a little too quickly.

"Your 'nothing' is always _something," _Peter retorted, concern and suspicion growing.

"Peter," Edmund stared at him. Then he gave a smile that absolutely scared the wits out of Peter. "Big Brother. High King. Magnificent Rock."

"Don't," Peter interrupted, more frightened than ever. "Don't you try to change the subject. You got me sidetracked with that stuff about the girls and me but-" He stopped short.

He. Lucy. Susan. The three of them.

But there were four Pevensies.

"Ed," Peter said slowly. "Ed, why did you write those papers?'

Edmund turned his back on him. "For Literature class."

Peter got up, walked to Edmund's side, and made him turn around. "And you were also supposed to write one about yourself," he prodded, sure his guess was correct.

Edmund stared at him. He'd never been able to lie to his brother. Since Narnia.

"Edmund, what is it? Don't tell me you're not upset, I can see it all over you."

Ed looked away. Swallowed. Shook his head. "It didn't fit."

"_What _didn't?"

"Peter, _never mind." _Edmund tried to shove him away.

Peter refused to relax his grip. _"Edmund, _tell me! Really, it can't be that bad!"

Edmund finally looked him in the eye.

"You were right, Pete. You've done nothing to deserve me. You and the girls deserve far better than a brother with so little fidelity."


	4. Chapter 4

Edmund stared his brother in the eye, letting the words sink in.

"'So little fidelity?' Edmund…" Peter's voice trailed off, plain confusion on his face. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Of course not." _You never will, _Edmund thought, shaking his head. _Thank Aslan you'll never know what it means to be so… unconscionable._

Peter was clearly beginning to get exasperated. He grabbed his brother by the shoulders and made him sit on the bed. "Ed, _as simply and clearly as you can, _explain to me just what you mean."

"Two words, Peter: _Turkish Delight."_

"Oh, rot!" Peter exclaimed. "Edmund, anyone would have-"

"_No! _Not anyone Pete, just _me!" _Edmund felt his face drain, a sick sensation in his stomach. "You don't understand. You never can, because _it didn't happen to you. _You'll never know how I feel day after day… _knowing _that I betrayed my own brother and sisters."

"Edmund!" Peter gasped. "Ed you kept her from us! Tumnus told me what you said, and the Fox Swiftail, how you tried-"

"Not hard enough!" Edmund snapped. "And it was too late any way, for me to try to act like some reformed character, because _she _knew I'd betray you! _She _knew-"

Peter's face had gone white. "Edmund, you _protected _us!"

The word split his heart like a stone knife. He yelled over the pain.

"_I couldn't even protect Aslan!"_

Peter stared at him. "Whatever are you talking about?"

The words spilled out. "That day. In the encampments. When the Witch came to claim my blood. _Mine!"_ Edmund's eyes lit with fury. "The traitor's, the one who _deserved _to die! I stood back like a coward, Pete, and I let him go instead! The only one I protected was _myself!_"

"Ed!" Peter gasped.

"_I could have spared Aslan! I could have gone to the stone table instead, and done as the ancient law demanded! Aslan would have been alive for the start of the battle and maybe fewer Narnians would have died and then it all would have been bet-"_

"_Don't you __**dare!" **_Peter roared.

Up and down the hall, there was a sound of doors suddenly opening.

Edmund stared at his brother from his seat on the bed, white faced. Peter _never _screamed like that.

Peter sank trembling to his knees in front of Edmund, catching the younger boy's chin in his hand, locking blue eyes with brown. _"Don't – you – __**ever **__say that again, _do you understand me, Edmund? Not ever."

Edmund swallowed and nodded.

"Swear it," Peter insisted. "Swear to me Ed, that you'll never say that, never think that, never even _feel _that again. By Aslan," the High King commanded.

Edmund stared into Peter's eyes, and nodded. "I swear," he whispered. "By Aslan. And I'm… sorry, Peter."

His brother stared at him for a long moment. Then he grabbed him in a crushing hug that made Edmund gasp. The older boy was quivering.

"No world," Peter murmured into his hair, "Could be better without you, Ed. Not England, not Narnia, not anywhere."

Edmund felt tears begin to sting his eyes. He clutched at the warmth of his brother's arms. "Doesn't always feel like it, Pete."

"Ed," Peter's voice was gentle. "Ed, you must let go. I thought you had accepted this a long time ago, that it was the way things were meant to happen. Don't you see? It was all part of the plan." He turned his face to his brother, and Edmund saw that Peter's eyes were also bright with tears. "If you had… died," he quavered. "The Witch would still have won. Two of the four thrones at Cair Paravel would have been empty."

"One," Edmund mumbled.

Peter shook his head. "Two, Edmund. I'd never have let you die alone."

Edmund gave one sharp cry and then buried himself against his brother.

His rock.

***

The dormitories had long since gone silent as one student after another went to sleep. But Edmund and Peter had been talking for hours.

It had felt more like Narnia, Edmund mused, sitting at Peter's right hand as he always had on the throne. It was a funny thing that no matter where the Pevensie children went, they invariably lined up in order. Susan and Peter in the middle. Lu to Su's left, Ed to Pete's right. The four thrones of Cair Paravel seemed to be forever present, ready for the sovereigns to assume their places.

The comfort of Peter's shoulder against his had been indescribable as Edmund explained how he felt that the title of "Protector" belonged to just about anyone but himself. "We can't deny what I did, Pete," he said simply.

Peter frowned at him. "But I don't understand. You never had a problem with the title Aslan gave you. King Edmund, the Just."

Edmund nodded. "Ah, but that was _King _Edmund, not just plain Edmund. Don't you see, Peter? When Aslan named me, I was a king. How could anyone expect that I would _not _be just, after what he did for me? When Mum and Dad named me, I was a brother. To you and Susan, and then later to Lucy.

"The Just referred to all Narnians, whom I love with all my heart. Protector refers to you, and Susan, and Lucy, whom I love far more." His face was very red, but he made himself look Peter in the eye when he said it.

"Oh, _Edmund." _Peter grabbed him in what was probably the tenth hug of the night. Edmund's neck was starting to hurt from all this yanking around. "Brother. We love you, too. With everything in us. I am sure the girls would say the same."

"I wish they were here," Edmund murmured.

"Me too. I think Lu would be able to convince you a little easier than I."

Edmund laughed. "That's not quite what I meant."

The room was quiet for a moment.

"I just shan't turn in the part about me," Edmund decided. "The papers about you and the girls I shall be glad to share, but-"

"No you won't," Peter interrupted, his face going red again. "I refuse to let you praise me to the high heavens when I know quite well how noble you are. You need to write _your _part. In fact," he said in a slow, deliberate voice, "I think it will help you to realize just how much of a protector you _have _been to me and the girls.

"Peter, it _still _doesn't feel as if that's my definition!"

"It _is." _Peter grabbed Edmund's arms and pulled him to his feet, then steered him toward the desk. "I know it's late, and you're tired, and this is a class you didn't mean to do well in any way. But hang it all, Edmund!" He pushed his brother down in the chair. "It's time you saw yourself as Lucy, and Susan, and I do." He stared down at Edmund. "As _Aslan _does."

Edmund stared back up at him. The he turned to face the empty page.

It wasn't easy. For the first fifteen minutes nothing came to mind except all the ways he _hadn't _protected Peter and the girls. The old memories came to the fore… taunting Lucy for her little "imaginary" country, telling the White Witch about Tumnus, tramping through the snow to her house to betray his brother and sisters…

"Do you think Aslan would want you to be brooding over this?" Peter asked suddenly, looking up from his book. "Because I don't. He told the girls and me that there was no need to speak to you on the subject ever again. Don't you think perhaps he meant for you to not worry over it any more either?"

Edmund stared at him.

"Start with the sword in the ice," Peter said calmly.

Oh.

The sword. _Edmund's _sword, driving straight through a wall of frozen nightmares. He had run into the How and slain a Werewolf, only to find his brother being… taunted. Told that he, the High King, couldn't defeat Miras. Tempted by a face and voice so deceptively beautiful that it made Edmund sick to see it again, when he had thought it gone forever. And Peter was giving in.

_**No! **__Not __**my**__ brother! Not this time, not ever again! _

He plunged his sword into the ice. Edmund's battle cry as she fell rang through the How. It had been such fierce satisfaction to shatter the White Witch this time, not just her wand… Her wand. Edmund smiled a burning smile. That time too, he had been full of just anger as he leapt from a rock to crush the Witch's wand, to stop the horrible wave of stone deaths rolling across the mountain. The relief in his heart had been uncontrollable, knowing that the terror of being made a statue was no longer a threat to his people…

Edmund gave a start as he realized that he had just recalled two instances in which he had, indeed, been a protector. And against the White Witch, of all things.

Peter gave him a knowing smile as he picked up his place in the book. "Don't forget to tell what a blockhead I was, Ed."

Edmund shook his head. _Don't think about it being a school assignment, _he told himself as his pen scratched across the page tentatively. _Don't worry about keeping it all in England. Don't worry about changing names and dates. _He wrote faster. _Write what really happened… _

His pen scattered ink. His hand began to cramp.

_Don't worry about it making sense. Don't worry about an audience. Tell about the Witch. Tell about the battles. Write about the duels and the voyages and the diplomatic missions..._

Peter fell asleep, his soft steady breathing the only other sound.

_Write about the fierce bear charging Lucy on the beach. Write about facing Eustace when he was a dragon. Write about sailing to the World's End…_

His eyes began to water and sting.

_Tell about Lucy's fear of fire and how you taught her to be safe. Tell about scaring that stray dog away from Mum. Tell about holding Susan's hand when she broke her ankle. Tell about holding __**Peter's **__hand when Susan broke her ankle…_

_Get it out. Write it all. Say it before it slips away. Aslan help me… _his pen came to a stop.

Edmund sat back and read his paper. Every memory he could recall of protecting anyone, anything, any hope or ideal. Things he had forgotten. Things that had been frozen over by the guilt were now as fresh on the page as Narnian spring. It read beautifully. Like a folk tale that Tumnus would have delighted in reciting. Like the poetry of The Thousand Dryads. Like the musings of a Narnian King.

Not those of a fifteen-year-old English school boy.

"Rot," he muttered. "I shall have to write it all over again."

***

The first thing Peter saw when he woke was that his brother had fallen asleep with his head on the desk. The next thing he saw was that there was a fresh sheaf of papers under Edmund's hand.

The High King rose from his bed and stepped softly across the room. With fingers accustomed to stealth, he slipped the pages away from Edmund. It was then he knew Ed was really exhausted, when the younger boy didn't react. Any other day he'd have jumped awake and tried to draw the sword that wasn't there any more.

Peter began reading. They were two different papers, he realized. One obviously written with nothing held back, an account of King Edmund the Just in Narnia, his protection flung over the country like a cloak. Things Peter recalled from long marches to war, disputes between territories, small disasters of diplomacy. The other was shorter, a tight little narrative about events that had occurred in England. Peter's lips quirked up in amusement. They were both Edmund the Protector to the core. He slipped the pages back under Edmund's arm, then draped his blanket over the sleeping young king.

"Well Ed," Peter murmured, laying a warm hand on the back of Edmund's neck. "I think you shall have to find a different class to throw."

**My first completed FanFic, Yay!!! **

**Hope you all enjoyed it. It was a blast to write! I never intended for it to get quite so heavy... sorry to those of you who didn't get a hankie warning!**

**Thanks again ever so much to those of you who have read and reviewed. I can't wait to hear what you think of this final chapter! Double thanks to Sentimental Star and Lirenel (I don't know what time zone you're in Lirenel, but I hope you get this before midnight! God bless you during this season).**

**Well *deep breath* I guess that's it, except for one last thing. Say it with me now:**

**Disclaimer: C.S. Lewis owns the Chronicles of Narnia, not I!**

**Ciao!**


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